


The Hook Up

by criesthenwrites



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:17:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criesthenwrites/pseuds/criesthenwrites
Summary: Mickey is a business man, and hookers are his business. Looking for fresh meat he meet's Ian Gallagher, a runaway troubled young man.





	1. Chapter 1

Mickey Milkovich counted the money in his hand and nodded approvingly. He sat in the back of the room dark room that vibrated with the beat of some rap song from the nineties, a variety of half naked men and women stood waiting for their chance to take their earnings for the night. 

“This can’t be all your earnings tonight, Ruby.” He tucked her portion of the stack into an envelope anyways, then wrote a number another piece of paper.

“Sorry, boss. It’s been a bit slow tonight,” The tall women took the envelope with hungry eyes and disappeared in the heavy smoke cloud that hung in room. Mickey had a feeling she was keeping some of her money a secret, but that was on her. He only took note on their earnings so he could see their performance, he wanted to make sure his people were doing their best. Mickey had to keep his focus on the ones that brought in the money. If Ruby was not bringing it in, or worse yet: keeping it from Mickey, she shouldn’t be surprised when he stops hooking her up with his best. He may be south trash, but his business wasn’t. 

Mickey’s business started off as a simple organization held through a small apartment above a bar. It began to grow the more his girls started to gain attention, so much that the small apartment wasn’t going to hold it. Two years later his people were all over the city. Desperate strangers came to him, knowing Mickey MIlkovich was the hook up. 

MIckey took in the rest of tonight's intake. He was never too good at math, but he was good at counting money. Besides, with the upbringing he had Mickey didn’t trust a lot of people when it came to his bread. Ruby was a prime example. 

“That bitch is done,” Mickey muttered, adding up his sub total. He was a couple hundred shorter than he had been all year. Mickey was in need for some new bodies. The room thinned out and the music lowered to a background noise, a few of his people still layed around, but all his business was done for the night. He went into the back room and put his money into a safe, hiding the metal box within a cardboard one, disguising his goods as storage. By the time he came back into the main room the room had finally cleared out, all who was left was Bob, his main security man. 

“I payed you already, what the fuck are you lurking ‘round for?” Mickey said, walking towards the stereo to turn off the music.

“Nothing Boss, just, uh, we’re falling short a bit. Losing our touch.” Bob stood at six feet six inches, buff as hell. He was bald with a spider web tattooed on his head. Very intimidating. Also very gay. He was the first one to suggest Mickey start appealing towards the “other team’s needs”, Mickey was very hesitant on the idea. He grew up with a very homophobic father who beat the shit out of anyone who even dared to say “homosexual”. Now Mickey was encouraging two guys banging, as long as he got some dough. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t have to tell me. I was thinking about scouting some tonight.” It was barely passed midnight, he’d hit a few clubs before turning in.

“Mind if I can come?”

“Trouble with the boyfriend?”

“Ain’t no boyfriend to have trouble with. I can hit boy’s town. Billy quit last week.” 

“Shit, I thought that was temporary. And fuck no, man, if I send you down there you’ll be there on strictly selfish terms.  And you got a funky ass taste in men.”

“Don’t knock the gingers, Boss. They’re pretty.” Smirked Bob. 

“If you wanna go, you’re gonna look for chicks. I guess I’ll hit up boy’s town, if Billy really quit.” Going down there, even if it was strictly for professional reasons, made Mickey uncomfortable. He blamed it on his father, of course.

Mickey eventually made it to the dreaded part of the city. It was the beginning of fall, not freezing, but chilly enough to wear a hoodie and jeans. Mickey even changed before coming, he wanted to look professional so he put on his nice pants and made his hair look decent. 

Young men with hood eyes stood below street lights on corners, daring someone to pay for their services. Mickey had enough street boys, he needed someone for the parties. A gust of wind picked up, numbing Mickey’s face and helping him to decide to turn into the first club he saw. 

Passing the bouncer he was welcomed by fluorescent lights and pulsing music, shirtless men sparkling with glitter and focused eyes rimmed in dark eyeliner danced in circles around suit and tie clad old men. It must’ve been costume night, the performers all had some slutty get up on. Mickey ventured farther into the crowded club, searching, yet trying not to look hungry in anyway. A half naked doctor brushed against him with a sly smirk, as he did this, the familiar uncomfortable feeling started bubbling in Mickey’s stomach, making it’s way to his chest then throat. To drown the feeling he barked an order to the bartender, downing the chilled beverage. After receiving a refill he spun his stool to take in the options before him. The doctor sauntered his way back slowly to him, allowing Mickey to take in a look. Mickey used to be bothered that gay men came to him at times like these, but he had to remind himself that he was in a gay bar. 

The kid was skinny, really skinny. He had a close shaven messy hair cut, his black hair sitting like peach fuzz. Something in Mickey’s gut told him that this boy was not attractive. 

“Hey there, hot stuff.” Doc purred, smiley widely. Mickey guessed he was trying for boyish charm, but all he saw were rotten teeth. 

“Not tonight buddy. Go.”

“Oh c’mon, baby. Don’t be that way.” The kid pushed closer.

“Go means go, now fucking scram.” Mickey placed his drink down and gave him a cold stare, daring him not to listen. Flipping off his back as he turned around, sulking away.

Mickey shook his head in disgust, he forgot how pushy gay whores were. He turned around again, making sure the skinny doctor was out of sight. Instead he caught eye contact with someone else. 

This one was on an elevated platform, surrounded by old men with greedy and hungry eyes. He wore sparkly red tight shorts and a plastic firefighter’s hat, around his neck was a fake hose. His skin was ghostly white, the flashing blue and purple lights danced on his body, creating shadows and showing off every curve of every muscle. He was tall, Mickey could see that easily from here. Something stirred inside Mickey, causing him to have to look away and regain himself. He looked again, but this time the young man was focused on a customer who was shoving bills in the poor kids pants. He looked up to find Mickey staring again, keeping eye contact as he moved his hips towards Mickey’s direction along to the music. 

The something stirred again, this time down south. This made him feel extremely uncomfortable. But he knew, this kid was gonna bring in the big bucks for Mickey. 


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey didn’t consider himself gay. He couldn’t. Sure, he went to Juvie and had to show a few punks who was boss. That didn’t count though, he’s never take it in the ass. He’s been with about a hundred chicks, since he was twelve. That is what counted. 

One time when he was about fifteen he accidently came across gay porn. He remembered knowing he should shut it off and watch at least lesbian porn instead, but he couldn’t look away. He found himself intrigued with the idea of taking it instead of being the one giving it…He blamed that on simple curiosity. No way he could be gay. His dad would literally kill him. 

But the way the firefighter dancer made him feel right now, it was as though he needed to reevaluate his whole life. Each pump of the stranger’s hips were like a punch in the face from Mickey’s dad.  _ Fag. Fag. Fag _ .

He felt like the chick falling in love with her first stripper on her twenty first birthday. That happened a lot, Mickey would know. He had people call him all the time, asking for “the hot one at last night’s party”. 

Mickey didn’t know how long they kept eye contact. Hell, it could’ve been twenty minutes or twenty seconds. It almost felt like time didn’t exist at this moment. Mickey wanted to beat his own ass for sounding so fucking cheesy. Unfortunately, the song changed and the kid winked then jumped from his place, disappearing into the crowd and breaking their moment.

Mickey literally shook his head, trying to erase the last moment from his head. He removed himself from his seat immediately, making a beeline for the rest room. Upon making it there, he could already see two sets of feet in one stall and a man in a complete spandex suit standing before a urinal. Mickey took a deep breath and walked to the sink right next to another dude taking a fucking pencil to his eye. Mickey never felt this way about a girl, and it scared him. Especially not a girl he saw across the room for fifteen seconds. 

He stared at his reflection, reminding himself who he was. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich. Terry Milkovich’s son. He was a pimp, and a damn good one. He was here strictly on business. Nothing else. He just got caught in the moment. 

After splashing his face with water, he regained his confidence and walked out of the awkward bathroom with his usual swagger. Regardless of what that kid made him feel, he was a money maker and Mickey was not going to waste a good opportunity. 

Once facing the room, he began to panick. As the night carried on more people took up space; making a sea of dancing bodies. There was no way Mickey was going to find the piggy bank again. 

“I thought you ran away.” Said a low voice in Mickey’s ear, causing him to turn fast and raise a fist. 

“Wow,” Laughed the stranger, he had a deep voice and was even taller than Mickey thought. He also wasn’t wearing the plastic hat anymore, revealing bright orange hair. Exactly Bob’s type. 

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” Mickey warned, raising an eyebrow threateningly. 

“Are there going to be other chances for me to?” Flirted the firefighter, lightly touching Mickey’s shoulder, trailing his hand down Mickey’s bicep. He was grateful that he was wearing a sweatshirt so no one could see the trail of chills the contact just left on his skin. 

MIckey yanked his arm away, saying the first thing that popped in his head, “Eh, watch it. I’m not fucking gay.” 

“Yeah and I’m not a natural ginger. May I remind you where you are?” 

“I’m here on business, prick. Speaking of I have a few questions to ask you.” Mickey had to take his eyes away from the red head’s abs and the light happy trail that disappeared under his red shorts. From what he could see, the carpet really did match the drapes… 

“What kinda business?” 

“The kind that could get you out of this fairy palace.” Mickey looked around, noticing the old men eyeing the two of them. He got a sick feeling in his stomach, old people always creeped him the fuck out. He actually felt like victim as the crowd practically eye raped them. 

“It’s not that bad,” He laughed and lightly punched Mickey’s shoulder, giving him butterflies or some shit. 

“Do we have a problem here, Curtis?” Asked a deep voice, a giant man the size of a smart car came up. His presence reminded Mickey of Bob. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good. We pay you to dance, not chitchat.”

“I know, I know. This guy just payed for a lap dance, we’re getting to know each other first.” Before Mickey knew what was happening Curtis pushed him onto the couch, making a slight show for the still watching giant. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hissed Mickey was the red head began to slowly rub up next to him. His first instinct was to knock the kid out and curb stomp his brains, but he was already pinned down and was to surprised to actually do anything. 

“Giving you a free show, be thankful.” Curtis put his back towards Mickey, rubbing his ass against Mickey’s front. The friction was driving Mickey insane. The “dance” just began and he was going to come right in his pants, and that never happened with no girl before. 

“I told you, I’m not fucking gay.” Mickey had to suppress a moan as Curtis gripped Mickey’s thigh with his giant hand. 

“Now tell me, what kind of business are you offering?” Curtis spun around and started dancing on Mickey front to front. Every single nerve ending was on fire and he started to sweat, trying to keep his breath even. 

“I’m kind of a pimp. Big time. Real well known. I do parties and shit. You’d be perfect.” Mickey had to talk in uneven sentences, gritting his teeth. Pretending he wasn’t enjoying what was happening. 

“I’ll think about it, do you have a card?” Curtis’s breath was heavy now, still dry humping the fuck out of Mickey’s right thigh. 

“‘Course.” Was the only response Mickey was able to produce, struggling to get his hand in his pocket. Finally he pulled out the card. Curtis practically snaked down towards his hand, grabbing the small rectangle with his mouth. He stood up and took the card from between his teeth and put it underneath the band of his shorts. Mickey watched speechless. 

“I’ll call you. And, by the way, nice tent Mr.I’m-not-gay.” Curtis smirked and stalked away, leaving Mickey very aroused, extremely confused, and the slightest bit disgusted with himself. He was never this unprofessional on the job. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been two days since the night at the club. Mickey half expected him not to call, and as each hour passed he felt more and more disappointed. He tried convincing himself he was only disappointed because he would have lost a fat amount of money if Curtis didn’t pull through. A small part of his brain laughed at him for that excuse. 

Mickey was eating dinner with his sister when he finally got a call. Mandy just placed his bowl filled to the top with spaghetti when his phone lit up and vibrated on the table. The unknown Chicago ID alerted Mickey that it was probably a business call, and he prayed silently it was Curtis. 

“Hello?” Muttered Mickey, mouth full of dinner. 

“Is the guy with the business card who keeps lying to himself?” A jokingly deep voice asked. Mickey stood immediately, causing his chair to fall back and for his knee bang under the table. For some odd reason he was blushing, and practically ran to his room for privacy. 

“Fuck. Ouch.”

“Huh?”

“Oh shit, sorry. Yeah this was the dude with the offer, Mickey.” Mickey was now in his room. Closing the door behind him so Mandy couldn’t interfere. For some strange reason, he felt as if he had something to hide with this call. 

“Mickey.” Curtis said his name slowly, tasting it.” Sorry it took so long for me to call, I had to wait to use the club’s phone before my next shift.”

“You don't gotta cell? Or a home phone or some shit?” 

Mickey laid on his bed, putting a his free hand behind his neck and kicking his shoes off. Talking to this kid felt natural and comfortable. 

“Nah, you’d need a home for that shit. And I have a cell. Just not a steady reliable paycheck to pay the bill every month.” Curtis had an easy going tone, but Mickey could tell there was some bitterness in his voice. 

“Shit, man. Homeless? What are you, nineteen?” Mickey tried his own age first.

“Nah. Try seventeen.” 

“What the fuck? You’re on the streets at seventeen? Fuck, man.” Mickey couldn’t imagine. Yeah he lived with a shitty dad, but he always had a place to sleep at night, even if it was behind bars. 

“South side, it’s no Garden of Eden.” 

Mickey couldn’t help laughing a bit, he knew exactly what he was talking about. “Garden of Eden?” Mickey heard Curtis chuckle at the other end, the sound warmed him. 

“Yeah it’s something my da- Frank would say.” Something clicked in the the back of Mickey’s brain. 

“South side..Frank..Shit. Gallagher?” There was no sound on the other end. “You’re a Gallagher?” 

“Ya, you can say that.” Mickey was familiar with the Gallaghers, everyone knows them. Frank was the town drunk, which is quite an achievement in their town.  He had about six or seven kids. Mickey used to go to school with one of the brothers- Sip, Chip, or something. 

“I ain’t ever heard of a Curtis Gallagher before.”

“Ian.”

“Huh?” 

“My name is Ian. Ian Gallagher.” Mickey’s entire brain went blank. He got wood on Ian Gallagher? The skinny red head who worked at the Kash N’ Grab? The same punk he had to beat the shit out of for forcing himself on Mandy? Heat started to spread on Mickey’s face, making his ears hot in embarrassment. 

“Oh.” 

“You’re Mickey? So Mickey Milkovich?” Mickey’s head was screaming for him to shut off his phone. But he couldn’t move or talk or nothing. 

“I won’t tell no one. That you’re gay.” 

“Huh?”

“That you’re gay. I won’t tell anyone.”  This snapped Mickey out of his stupor.

“I’m not fucking gay.”

“Yeah, whatever. Is this business offer off the table now, since the mystery is gone now?” Mickey wanted to scream yes. The fact that Ian Gallagher, the red twink of south side, got Mickey off, made him want to take a shot gun to himself. He closed his eyes in frustration, seeing only Curt- Ian- in those tiny ass shorts, moving those fucking hips in that stupid way. Mickey was then reminded of the old men and the big bills. If this kid made  _ Mickey  _ feel this way, imagine what he could do to actually gay men. He had to think business. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just go to that address on the card when you can. That office is open nine to twelve on Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sunday’s.”

“See you then.” 

“Yeah, man. See you then.” 

Click. 

The conversation started off so casual. Like talking to an old friend. If Mickey even had any friends. It just had to go to complete shit. Ian fucking Gallagher. Mickey felt violated and lied to. He couldn’t believe that that kid was the same guy that treated Mickey as some kind of stripper pole just the other night. Puberty hit him like a fucking semi. 

He made his way back to the kitchen, watching Mandy put his bowl in the microwave. “What got your ass in such a daze?” 

“The fuck you mean?” He spit back. 

“You gotta girlfriend? What’s her name?” 

“Fuck you. That’s their name.” He responded, shoving hot and soggy noodles in his mouth, trying not to act like a fucking girl. 


	4. Jealouy

Mickey tried to pretend he wasn’t constantly thinking about Ian Gallagher. Every time the kid’s image popped in his mind, shirtless and all, Mickey grew angry and even more aggressive than usual. He had no idea why he was so transfixed on him, there should be no reason why. He wasn’t a fag. He couldn’t be. 

“Dude, what’s up your ass lately?” Bob asked, they’ve only just arrived to the main “office” for Mickey’s business, and Bob already picked up Mickey’s bad mood. With Bob’s specifically worded question, Ian came to Mickey’s mind yet again. Mickey got the chills at just the thought. 

“How about shutting the fuck up if you like getting paid every night?” 

“Did you just shiver, dude?” Bob laughed, “Your eyes kinda rolled back, too.” 

“No they fucking-” Mickey’s response was cut off by someone coming in, and despite efforts Mickey expected it to be Ian. Of course it wasn’t, and he grew more annoyed   
with himself and the fact it’s been a week since his phone call with Ian made Mickey impatient. His feelings were so complicated, it drove him insane. 

‘You’re late, Ruby,” Mickey snapped. He eyed the tall women, she had sharp mixed race features. Very unique looking, not Mickey’s type at all. Kinda looked like a lizard in his opinion. She used to bring in good cash, though. 

“Just a few minutes, boss. Calm down.” 

“You telling the guy who holds the cash that puts food in your fucking belly to calm down? Or am I getting that wrong? ” He demanded, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t respond, rolling her eyes slightly instead. 

“How much am I getting paid tonight?” 

“ Actually, with some thought I decided I’m gonna let you go.” Mickey stated, moving passed her to work on something in the back room. 

“Bullshit, you can’t do that.” She whined, voice getting annoyingly high. He hated chicks. 

“Yeah? Fucking watch me. Now bye, if you didn’t get the memo.” He waved and put on an obviously fake smile before closing the back door in her face. He didn’t have anything to do there, he just didn’t want to face people tonight. He heard the bitch moan and complain to Bob from the other room, and he almost felt bad. It was her fault though, she continued to harbor money and got lazy on the job. It was gonna be any day that he would drop her, might as well be tonight. 

He finally heard silence in the other room and he felt better, slumping against the wall and sat on the cardboard box that concealed his safe. His forehead was plastered against the flaking wooden wall, almost falling asleep. He didn’t get much sleep last night, to his dismay he dreamt of Gallagher and that stupid dance. He woke himself up and refused to fall back asleep, not wanting the same fairy nightmare again. He’d beat his own ass if he wasn't so confused. 

“Boss?” Bob popped his head through the door with a sheepish grin on his face. 

“Unless the place is on fire, there is no fucking reason you should be bugging me right now.” Mickey eyed Bob, he had a strange smile on his face, almost pervish. “Why the fuck are you looking like that?” 

“Somebody is requesting to see you, and I’m just gonna offer to buy already.”

“The fuck?” Mickey asked lifting a hand in question as Bob swung the door open, revealing a worn out Ian Gallagher,

“Is fuck your favorite word? You say it so much.” Ian asked with a crooked smirk, the bags under his eyes becoming more dominant. 

“What? Fuck no. Wait, fuck. Shit, what the fuck?” Mickey could feel heat rush to his cheeks as he continued to make a fool of himself. Ian made his brain scramble like a bunch of eggs, like the ones his ex wife would make. He never had someone make him feel embarrassed like this, and if they did he’d most likely beat their ass. Ian and Bob were cracking up, and Ian was laughing with a certain spark in his eyes. Bob was laughing at Mickey, yet he was looking at Ian. That pervish grin and creepy look completely erased Mickey’s embarrassment and hot anger replaced the fleeting emotion. Mickey forgot about Bob’s preference in men and he witnessed an emotion he only felt when he was fifteen and saw his dead give his brother a new gun. Jealousy. 

“Hey, Bobby. Shut the hell up will you? Go mangle up some hookers?” Bob rolled his eyes and left. 

“Mangled?” Ian repeated, eyes bugging out of his head. “I don’t know of that’s the word you meant. And if it is, I think I better leave.”

“Like mangle? Like ‘go get’?” Mickey began to panic, he wanted Ian to stay. 

“Wrangle?” Ian asked, beginning to laugh again. Mickey relished the noise. “Mangle means to fucking murder or some shit.” Mickey felt embarrassed again, and instead of beating the shit out of him he lightly punched his arm, laughing along too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long, I just started working. :(


End file.
